Stories Change
by amf studios
Summary: everything had to happen for Harry to Kill Voldemort... but what if things changed? for better or worse?


**I'll keep this short, because the prologue will explain most of what is going on. The thing about my fanfics is they are the epitome of what writers should strive to do, Take pre-existing ideas and put their own spin on them. Lets face it, originality never existed, only remixes of what we already knew, as such, this fic is no different. Simply many previously existing ideas, put together in a unique way. Enjoy!**

Prologue.

Halloween night in Diagon Alley, a marvel to see. The jack-o-lanterns levitating in the midnight sky, as if they were luminous balloons. The smell of chocolate and butterbeer filled the crisp, Autumn air. Music sounding throughout the streets, every shop bright in celebration. It seemed every witch and wizard in the country was out and about, celebrating the defeat of… well, you know who. Well, everyone except you that is.

No, you, you odd fellow, were confined to the darkness of a nearby alley, one that was less festive, yet fit the overall mood this night was supposed to convey, dark and mysterious, the only light was the full moon over head, and the brief embers of the nearby festival.

There you were, all alone, or were you? That was something you began to question as the sound of clanging iron met your ears. You turned to see a stack of cauldrons knocked about. You continued to gaze upon the mess as something crawled from behind one of the metal pots.

A tuxedo cat. Standardly black and white, with piercing blue eyes staring into your soul, on of which was paler, as if damaged, a bit of its left ear snipped off. Around its neck, a midnight blue collar with a black gem dangling from it. The feline climbed onto a nearby table that held many books and sat, still keeping its eyes on you. Knowing there was nothing to worry about, you shifted your glance, only to hear another noise from the cat, though it made you flinch, you did not feel the need to turn to the animal again. That is until you heard a raspy feminine voice say, "hey there."

You turned back to the cat, whom had been replaced with a young women, somewhere in her late twenties, sitting criss cross on the table. The mysterious witch had dark raven hair in a bob-cut, save for a small portion over her eye which had an icy-blue color to it. Her visible eye was a brilliant blue as well, too brilliant to be natural, she must have changed its coloration with a potion of some sort. As for her attire, she wore a midnight blue coat, with white fur lining the hood, which was around her neck, a silver skirt with matching boots, covered in diamond designs, as well as black tights to combat the autumn weather.

"Drink?" she asked holding out a bottle of yellow liquid, when you did not respond she simply shrugged, "eh, more for me."

The witch took a drink from her flask, within seconds, a small crack was heard as smoke leaked through her lips. The woman donned a cheshire grin, "nothing like a bit of exploding lemonade to get ya in the Halloween mood."

You stood there silently, staring at the woman as she took another sip.

"Don't talk much, do ya?" she waited for your reply, when it didn't come she shrugged again, "yeah, I used to be like that."

There was an awkward silence between the two of you. Any outside observer would likely think the conversation was quickly dying. Just before the witch had the chance to say anything else, fireworks began to go off in the night sky, shaped in things such as dragons, phoenixes, and the image of a person slaying a giant snake.

"Some party, huh? Can you believe we adopted this holiday just because some dark lord got killed by a baby?" she laughed at the odd scenario in which this day became famous in the wizard community. Prior to 1981 Halloween was pretty much a muggles only holiday, the only thing wizards found interest in, was that every Halloween something went entirely wrong in the magical community. Be it a cave troll attack, pack of werewolves go out of control, or even the deaths of Lily and James Potter, this night was seen as basically the wizarding "friday the 13."

Before you had the chance to say anything to this mysterious witch, who seemed to find the tragedy that happened to the Potters "Funny," she said in a semi-serious tone, "oh, sorry, not what I meant. I just found it kind of odd. You know, everything went exactly right for Harry. I mean, sure his mom and dad died, but he, through some means of luck, pulled off killing an immortal Dark lord, it's baffling."

She took another drink as you began to question if her lemonade was alcoholic or not. The witch shifted her gaze to the stars, "you know, I can't help but wonder… what if things had been different? After all, just a slight change to the set up can greatly affect the outcome…"

This seemed to have grabbed your intrigue, as the woman sat up, continuing her little monologue, "what if a number of things… just changed for Harry? Well, wouldn't that be a story!"

She grabbed her wand from her pocket, eleven and a half inch, mostly black with a purple handle. With a flick of her wrist, a red flare shot from her wand and into the air, exploding into rain of small embers.

Embers that seemed to have faded into the stars, the stars of the night sky of Prive drive, november first, 1981. A simple place, of a simple neighborhood, about as boring of a place one could be. Outside of the fourth house, an elderly man stood.

From his pocket, he pulled a small, lighter like device. He clicked it threw times and the light for the street lamps seemed to drift into the device, consuming the street in darkness, only the pale moonlight providing vision.

As he stood with his vision toward the house in front of him, a dark grey cat soon walked near him, a grin crept its way onto his face as he greeted her, "Minerva."

In an instant the cat began to grow and shift in color, until it had taken on the form of an elderly woman, with green robes and a black witch's hat. Her eyes still seemed somewhat cat like, but that was just a fact of animagi, they always resemble their animal forms in either appearance or behavior, in some cases both.

"Albus," minerva replied to the old wizard, "are you curtain this is a wise choice? I've watched them all day, and believe me, they are the worst kind of muggle."

"Minerva, my dear, it is necessary, his mother's love is all that will protect him, he must be reminded of it," Albus said in a calm tone, taking a pouch from his robe pocket, from it he pulled small yellow candies, "lemon drop?"

The witch narrowed her glance.

"Verywell," Albus said popping the lemon candy into his mouth. Within minutes the sound of a motor filled their ears. Both the elders turned to the street to find a levitating motorcycle descending at the end of the road, making contact with the earth and coming to a stop a few feet away. Manning the vehicle, was a large man, larger than normal being at least ten feet tall, well above the older folk. His unkempt hair and beard was a mess of blackish-brown curls, and his mole-skin coat went down to his knees.

"You're late, Hagrid," Minerva scolded.

"Sorry, professor!" Hagrid said getting of his bike, "got lost 'bout 'alf way 'ere. Little tike fell right to sleep."

From the motorcycle's sidecar, he carefully lifted an infant, little less than a few months old with black hair, and an unusually shaped scar, a scar that almost resembled a strike of lightning. He walked to albus, cradling the child in his giant hand. The oldman took the infant and carefully placed him on the doorstep of the home, attaching a note to his blue blanket, before rejoining the group.

"Eh," hagrid said shaking the elder's shoulder, "I think we should look inta' Sirious. When I got to the 'ouse 'e said take 'is bike an get over 'ere with the kid, seemed pretty angry, also said if anything 'appens to em to leave everything to 'Arry."

"Oh, dear, what has that man done now," Minerva said with a grim expression.

"Knowing Sirius, something rash, we'd best track him down before it's too late," Albus said. The other two nodded, as Minerva returned to her cat form and Hagrid took a last glance as the child before riding off into the night, the old man returned the light to the street lamps. Taking out his wand a silently reciting a spell, a white light flew from the tool and into the doorbell, sounding the chime. Minutes later he heard the door begin to open, he whispered, "good luck, Harry potter."

Then he disappeared into the night… sound familiar? Don't get used to it, things tend to seem one result is imminent, but that doesn't make it true, and from here on, things will clearly not be the story you expect.


End file.
